Page 65 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
Aryana pressed close to the wall, her knees barely holding her up. If she moved faster, she might get away, but that would only put her at risk from Xaphoron who could actually hurt her. Tears wetted her cheeks. Damn this place. If only she could master the fear coursing through her, she might be able to make a plan to help her escape this situation.
“What is going on here?” a voice demanded. A power blasted between Zarathos and the other demon, throwing Balafur against the wall. He gripped a bloody shoulder where the arch king had bitten him.
A slew of demons stood in the hallway. At their head was a female, her hand out. She must have the power of levitation. The others with her were dressed in the red robes and symbols that Marbas had worn. Members of the trial council. The leader took in Zarathos and then Balafur.
More demons? Oh gods, what now? Tall and angry, each one radiated menace. She huddled against the wall, wishing to vanish into the stone.
“Your Majesty, forgive my intrusion.” The leader turned to the gargoyle. “Balafur, what’s the meaning of this? You know it is forbidden to kill other champions outside the trials.”
“Tell that to him. He attacked me, Lady Braxia,” Balafur snarled. “Zarathos is taking the vampire princess to his bedchamber so he can ravage her as he wishes. But he refuses to share.”
“That is his right. She is his kalator. You have your own kalator to do with as you please.” Braxia frowned as she gazed between them. “Save the fighting for the arena.”
“He’s the one who killed a champion during the opening ceremony,” Balafur accused.
“Angry you didn’t think of it first? That little unprecedented stunt granted Zarathos third place. That being said, it doesn’t mean we will approve of any killing outside the arena. I hope our future king wouldn’t expect any special treatment on that front.” She cast a disapproving glance at the arch king. “If you desire to change who is in charge, Balafar, then do something about it in the trials.” Her nose wrinkled, and she gazed at Aryana. “Get that bitch out of my sight. She reeks so strongly of fear, she’s bound to set the entire castle into a frenzy.”
With a final, guttural growl, Zarathos backed off and stalked toward Aryana. She shook violently, every instinct screaming that she was prey, small, fragile, and completely at their mercy. These monsters didn’t intend to just kill her, they wanted to break her as they did it, twist her into something unrecognizable. Zarathos grabbed her and hauled her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. Her stomach lurched. Behind them, the rest of the demons stood, their eyes gleaming with hunger. She writhed against his hold, a whimper escaping her throat as panic clawed its way up her spine.
“Come, my little toy.” Zarathos’s voice was rough and threatening. “I promise to make tonight an experience you will never forget.”
A small hiccuping sob escaped her as he carried her off, stomping down the hallway to his chambers.
After entering, he kicked the door shut and set her on the ground. He returned to the door, pressing his ear to it. With a snarl, he threw the lock and turned to face her. “Time for me to have some fun.”
He dragged her over to a fresh set of shackles on the floor. Methodically, he unlocked the ones still on her wrists.
“Lay down.”
She did as he said. Even though she was at his mercy, she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her. That was reassuring, despite the constant ice sliding through her body with each unrelenting beat of her heart. Zarathos only stared at her for a long moment before he gripped each of her wrists, raising them above her head, snapping the chains around them. Then he leaned over her, whispering into her ear. “You must remain very afraid. Scream and beg as if I am taking advantage of you until I tell you to stop. Despite that, you shall retain the knowledge that you are unharmed.”
“No, no, please, don’t…don’t…” The pleas tumbled out of her mouth as she thrashed on the floor underneath him. Then a piercing scream ripped out of her.
She lay there sobbing, words stumbling from her lips. “Please…stop…don’t…”
The expression on Zarathos’s face intensified and for a moment, he looked at her with such agony, she thought he might be the one being tortured.
But that didn’t stop the scream that rose unbidden from her throat, piercing the space between them. Zarathos’s fists clenched, and he turned away, moving with swift strides to a side opening and disappearing inside it.
And she continued to cry and shriek in terror.
Aryana’s throat was sore. And she was drained. Sheer panic exhausted her; dried tears caked her face, puffing her eyes and cheeks until they ached. She swiped her nose for the hundredth time on her sleeve because that was all she could do. When would this potion wear off? Her voice was near gone and her fear had been so poignant for so long, she wasn’t sure it mattered if she was even afraid anymore.
That was when Zarathos returned. He stalked to the door and pressed his ear against it. A relieved expression crossed his face, and he approached. Aryana tensed. He wasn’t going to hurt her, but she was under the potion still, and she didn’t know what he’d order her to do next.
She wanted him to tell her to stop.
“Please…please, Zarathos…master, please…” She communicated her desperation to him the only way possible, giving him a pleading look through her eyes.Please make this end.
“Listen to me. No more screams, no more fear. You are safe. Do you understand? You’re safe.”
The tension leached out of her body. “I’m safe.”
“Yes.” He reached toward her, but she flinched and his hand curled inward as he retracted it. He looked away at the fire. “We are almost there, Aryana. But I need to… my scent must be on you.” He took a slow breath. “May I hold you?”
She blinked in surprise. “You’re asking me?”
“If I have to scent your fear on you any longer, I swear I am going to vomit.”
